


Say I Do, Say I Don't

by Sorted



Series: Dorian Pavus Cannot Be Troped [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 15:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21430219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorted/pseuds/Sorted
Summary: Dorian and Bull have never been together at all, until they get married. Will they accidentally, awkwardly fall in love?Well, no. Because Dorian is too smooth for that.
Relationships: Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Series: Dorian Pavus Cannot Be Troped [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1442881
Comments: 48
Kudos: 217





	Say I Do, Say I Don't

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote a completely standard Fake Dating story for Arthdal Chronicles (modern AU, so knowledge of AC is not required) and then it occurred to me--hey! That's a trope, right?
> 
> Oh, Dorian and Bull would do this differently. ^_^

“Will you marry me?”

Bull blinked, his drink stopped dead halfway to his mouth. He glanced to either side of himself, but no—he was the only one the Vint was pointed at. Looking at. Apparently talking to. The next closest person in the tavern was Krem, behind Dorian at about four o’clock, and just close enough to hear and stare goggle-eyed.

Bull lowered his drink. “Uh…sorry, you wanna run that by me again?”

Dorian straightened. He did that nose-in-the-air thing he was so good at, with a splash of genteel thrown in and a polite smile to take the edge off the superiority. “Iron Bull,” he began again, in a smoother tone, “I’ve known you to be an accommodating sort during our acquaintance as fellow members of the Inquisition. As you are not engaged to any other, I wonder if I might trouble you to marry me. At your earliest convenience.”

Scratching at a horn, Bull ventured, “Is this a prank?”

“No, this is a proposal.” Dorian spoke with exaggerated patience. “A marriage proposal.”

Brows slowly drawing together in confusion: “You keep using that word. Are you sure it means what you think it means?”

“Marriage?” Dorian gave him an arch look. “The legally binding partnership of two individuals, previously not related, into a new family unit? The exclusive commitment to a spouse? The conjugal state often resulting in biological reproduction? …Need I go on?”

“Yeah, I’m good, thanks.” Bull muttered, “Forgot I was talking to an encyclopedia.” He sighed, looking up at Dorian. “Any special reason you’re asking?”

“Passionate desire,” Dorian deadpanned.

“Ha. Cute.”

Dorian _tsk_ed. “Yes, _obviously_ there’s a reason, but it’s a bit complicated and I’m in something of a rush. Will you or won’t you?”

“Hmm.” Bull’s eyes raked down him. “You pregnant?”

After a long, unblinking look, Dorian flicked a small lightning bolt at him. It impacted in the stone wall by his head.

“All right, shit, calm down. I was just asking if I’m going to get saddled with a little mageling thanks to this…”

Dorian smiled at him, and the curve of his pretty lips was wicked. “My father is coming to Skyhold.”

\--

Bull shifted uncomfortably in the Inquisition’s uniform, which was the only outfit he had that involved a shirt but wasn’t armor. There hadn’t been time for a tailor. Dorian, of course, was resplendent in jet-black. Cadash was squirming in something Josephine had forced her to wear for several formal receptions. Mother Giselle looked tired and pained.

“So…since we fucked up Corypheus, the Vints have decided to pretend they were on our side all along…” Bull ventured.

Cadash sighed. “The Imperium is pushing some diplomats on us. Twerps.”

“And my father is among them,” Dorian agreed.

Bull concluded in a low mutter, “And you decided to get married…”

“In plain language? To give him a fucking heart attack.”

Cadash sighed.

Bull hummed. “Very Vinty of you.”

“Very _you_,” Cadash added. “Fuckwit.”

“I beg your pardon.”

Mother Giselle beckoned to them as the singers concluded, and Cadash took them both by the hands and led them forward.

\--

“Oh, I’m moving in with you, of course,” Dorian explained immediately after the vows were said. “I _must_ live in that sty you call a bedroom, husband dearest.” He smiled prettily.

Regardless of the Chantry they were still standing in, Bull was already popping open the brass buttons on his uniform to get the damn jacket off. “See, I can’t tell—are you being sarcastic?”

“Would my father faint at the sight of that room?”

“…Huh. All right.”

“Exactly.” Dorian turned on his heel. “I’ll bring my things over at once.”

“You do that. I’m going to start up the party in the tavern.”

Pausing at the door, Dorian glanced back. “As a groom, I get free drinks, don’t I?”

Bull glanced at Cadash. She scowled. “Yeah, but if I find out you just married Iron Bull to get drunk on our sovereign…”

“Nonsense. I’m not _that_ much of a lush.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” she grumbled.

\--

Dorian didn’t know what it meant when the entire tavern started pounding tankards on the boards of their tables—or smacking them with plates or utensils, if the tankards were too filled with drink. It was not a “thing” in Tevinter, apparently.

“We’re supposed to kiss every time they do that,” Bull explained.

“Kiss? We are? Whatever for?” Dorian blinked. “Oh, did we skip that part of the ceremony too?”

Bull snorted. “Mother Giselle left it out, yeah. Surprised you didn’t notice.”

“Well Southern ceremonies are not exactly my—Maker, fine! Stop that racket!” And he leaned over and unceremoniously pulled Bull down into a kiss.

It was pretty lavish, as first kisses went. Not shy at all. Dorian’s mouth was, fittingly, _magic._ He didn’t let go right away either, and Bull started getting a little into it—until Krem threw a piece of chicken at them. “All right, we get it, Chief! That’s not a wedding party kiss, save it for later!”

Dorian withdrew, coolly. “Well, don’t smack the tableware if you don’t like the results.”

The Inquisition were nothing if not a stubborn bunch, however—the Chargers in particular were assholes like that—and it took twice more before Dorian really convinced them to stop it. The second time, he got handsy, and the final straw was when he crawled into Bull’s lap and started grinding. That was more than most of the tavern wanted to see, and the tableware banging ceased after that.

All this was pretty interesting to Bull, who was beginning to wonder if Dorian had real plans for the wedding night. He hadn’t assumed so; the explanation of Dorian’s reasons had made it clear the whole marriage thing was a sham specifically designed to attempt to kill Dorian’s father with shock. And despite some rather obvious mutual attraction and flirting over the course of their time with the Inquisition, Dorian had never showed up at Bull’s door. Bull could only assume there was a reason for that; up to a point, he figured it was due caution over the Ben-Hassrath thing. Since the Storm Coast, he figured it was something else. Didn’t matter either way. He’d found a good, trustworthy—if snarky—friend in Dorian, and he didn’t care if they fucked or not.

Agreeing to marry the guy was just doing a favor for a friend. At least, Bull had figured that was all Dorian needed it to be. He was a little curious now, though. Maybe he’d been wrong.

\--

Dorian glanced at Bull’s roof and murmured, “Thank the Maker you finally got that fixed. I could never have slept in here without a roof.” He couldn’t imagine how _Bull_ had managed it all this time, size and body heat be damned. They were in the _Frostback Mountains._ Snowy peaks with _frost_ right there in the name! Sometimes Dorian thought the qunari had a death wish.

Bull smiled, taking off his boots. “I was expecting complaints from you, big guy.”

“I’m certain I could produce a litany of them,” Dorian answered, beginning to undress and fold his robes. “But considering the size of the favor you’re doing for me, I’ve decided to begin with gratitude instead. We shall see how long it holds out. I anticipate that being married to you will soon give me numerous reasons to complain.”

“Fair enough,” Bull said…and dropped his pants. He wasn’t wearing smalls.

Dorian’s eyes fixed themselves to Iron Bull’s dick as his hands stuttered to a stop in the act of putting away his shirt. Forcing his voice into a semblance of his normal tone, he began, “Are you…expecting…”

“I usually sleep naked,” Bull answered shortly, shrugging. “Problem?”

With a slow and subtle inhale, Dorian raised his eyes, dropped his shirt, and upped the ante. He tugged his trousers open and slipped them off. “Not at all. I do as well—or nearly so.” Dorian, after all, wore smallclothes. They were of a finer quality than Southerners had, and they hugged his body becomingly. He folded his trousers, standing in nothing but his smalls, and smiled. “I sleep like this.”

Dorian had a hunch that Bull was the sort of man who was most aroused when some things were left to his imagination. A little bit of concealment could be so much more erotic than full exposure…

But if he was expecting Bull to lose composure, he was disappointed. The qunari just nodded and plopped into bed.

Dorian was growing chilled fast, but he concealed it and strolled to the bed nonchalantly. He kept a disinterested look on his face, hiding how closely he was watching for any reaction as he slid into bed beside Bull.

“So.” Bull rolled toward him, propped himself on one arm, and asked, “Are we gonna fuck?”

Dorian absolutely did not show his triumphant smirk. Innocently, he hummed. “I hadn’t planned on asking you for that. I think you’ve been obliging enough by marrying me. But if that’s something you particularly desire, I can’t say I mind. I could oblige you…if you really wanted to.” _Go on, beg me._

__Bull rolled onto his back. “Wasn’t asking for me. But hey, if _you_ want…”

Not about to surrender the advantage, Dorian rolled onto his side away from Bull. “Then it would seem there’s no need. Goodnight.”

After a short pause. “All right. ’Night, Husband.”

Dorian slept peacefully, without tossing or turning or thinking of how much naked qunari was within inches of his own bare skin. Whether Iron Bull had an equally restful night, he didn’t know; for his part, Dorian went right to sleep.

After all, he had a spell for that.

\--

An envoy from Tevinter arrived within the week—bringing the expected guest. Dorian was, for perhaps the first time in years, actually eagerly anticipating meeting his father. Bull had agreed to join him.

It was perfect. Halward Pavus paced slowly and regally toward them in the Great Hall, and Dorian turned and approached his father—holding Iron Bull’s hand. He watched his father notice. Watched the color drain from his dark face. Heard the faintness of his voice as he spoke. “Dorian.”

“Welcome to Skyhold, Father.” He smiled. “Allow me to introduce you.” He slipped his arm around Bull’s back. “His title was Hissrad,” and Halward Pavus knew what _that_ meant, “but these days he is known as The Iron Bull. My husband.”

“Nice to meet you, Dad,” Bull said, sticking out his hand on cue.

Halward Pavus fainted.

His attendants rushed to him in a panic. Dorian calmly asked, “Is he having a heart attack?”

One of them felt his pulse. “No, thank the Maker.”

“Hmm.” Dorian’s mouth twisted a little in annoyance. “Shit. Well, a fainting spell will do, I suppose.” He smiled up at Bull. “Perhaps we’ll have better luck in the explosive argument later.”

Bull snorted as Dorian disentangled them. “You’re kinda twisted. _Dear._”

“Need I remind you what he attempted to do to me?”

“Yeah, no, I remember.” Bull patted his shoulder. “I’ll carry him up to the guest room.”

The attendants practically had heart attacks of their own at this suggestion, and firmly refused…until Dorian intervened. “He’s _my_ father. My husband will take care of relocating him. You are all _dismissed._”

_Maker, it’s so good to be an altus sometimes._

\--

The guest room Halward Pavus was staying in had been Dorian’s room until recently. Dorian looked forward to pointing that out. _Oh yes, until I moved in with my husband…_

In the meantime, he dutifully tended to his swooning father with the help of Iron Bull.

“Here—damp cloth.”

“Thank you.”

“Cushion.”

“Thank you.”

“Smelling salts?”

Dorian hummed. “Give him a minute, we’ll see if he comes around on his own.”

“Wanna make out?”

He laughed.

“Is that a no?”

Dorian smiled. “Your ideas are charming, but I’m actually going for a different type of shock, here. My father’s opinion of me and my affairs with men tends toward the base and carnal. I think he would actually be _less_ shocked if I appear to have married you for lust.” He smirked wickedly. “So I’d like us to cultivate a sweet, domestic love affair. The perfect image of matrimonial harmony. It will _kill_ him.”

Bull hummed. “Should have said that earlier. I’d have brought my knitting.”

Eye wide: “You don’t knit.”

Bull just smiled at him.

“You _don’t_ knit!”

Bull shrugged.

“Iron Bull, I’ve kept company with you for a full year ’round and more, and I’ve never seen the slightest indication that you knit. And you couldn’t possibly use knitting needles with hands that large anyway!”

“Hey, a larger gauge…”

“You _don’t knit!_”

Bull laughed. “All right, I don’t really knit.” He winked. “But I do know how, and I could…in a pinch.”

Dorian sighed. “Noted.” A moan from the bed. “Ah, he’s coming around.” Dorian sat on the bed by his father, playing the nurse convincingly. “Father?”

Dark eyes fluttered open. “…Dorian?”

He smiled sweetly. “You fainted, father. Do you feel well? Can you sit up?”

With another moan, he nodded, and Dorian helped him up to a seated position, propping pillows at his back.

“Tea?” Bull offered.

Dorian took the cup with a smile. “Thank you, Amatus.” Then he extended the tea to his father, pretending not to notice how the man had frozen in shock. “Tea, father?”

Halward Pavus took the cup mechanically, but his gaze was fixed on Iron Bull, his face was grey, and his eyes wide and stricken. His hands shook as he sipped the tea. Then, in little more than a whisper: “Is this some kind of joke?”

Dorian blinked. “I’m sorry, father, but that’s what passes for tea here in the South. I can ask your attendants if you brought any from Tevinter, if you prefer…”

“Be silent.” He stared at Bull. “You. Did you really marry my son?”

“Yup.”

“Legally?”

Bull hummed. “Southern Chantry legal. Is that recognized in Tevinter?” he asked, turning to Dorian.

“It is,” Dorian answered brightly. “As much as the Imperial Chantry despises the Southern Chantry, they have too many official dealings with the rest of Thedas to disregard the legality of their marriages.”

Halward Pavus set his tea in his lap, placing a hand over his eyes with a soft moan.

Dorian brightened. “Bull, did you realize you have a title now? You’re also Lord Pavus!”

Halward’s tea froze in the cup.

“Heh, ’course I knew that.” He leaned over and kissed the top of Dorian’s head. “Didn’t you know I was marrying you for your money?”

“_Dorian_.” His father’s voice was acid. “Is this it, then? Is this how you regard House Pavus? Are you absolutely determined to ruin us, to remove us from our seat in the Magisterium, from our title, from our very _home…_”

Dorian loudly whispered, “This is the shouty part, Amatus. You can go, I’ll see you back at our place tonight.”

“Sure, Kadan.” Bull smiled.

Halward Pavus made a choked wailing sound and the frozen tea burst into flames.

\--

Bull was sitting in the library, in Dorian’s chair, attempting to make sense of his new husband’s latest research, when Dorian came from his father’s room. He looked up, smiling. “So, how’d it go?”

Dorian crossed his arms and _tsk_ed in annoyance. “Still no heart attack. I think my father has been eating better and drinking less. More’s the pity.”

Bull stood, thumbing toward the tavern. “Dinner?”

“Certainly.”

“And how are you?” he asked as they walked.

“I?” Dorian glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

Bull shrugged. “I mean, I know you’re getting a kick out of this, and I know you want to act like it doesn’t bother you. But I also know some of what he probably said to you probably sucks. So…how are you?”

Dorian contemplated the battlements as they emerged from the hall. He breathed deep of the horrid, cold, but certainly clear air. “I don’t mind admitting I have a headache, nor would I mind a drink. Though I’m determined I shall not drink heavily while he is here. I’d like to be able to show my father how little his opinion bothers me,” he half-smiled, “and if it isn’t quite true yet, I’m sure I can convince myself of it. I’m terribly persuasive.”

Bull nodded. “Sure. You persuaded me to be your husband.”

Dorian smiled charmingly at him. “Am I getting credit for that? I thought you were just easy.”

He laughed. “Let’s go with both.”

\--

Dorian’s entire body was lax with drink—not enough to make his head swim, just enough to make him recline against The Iron Bull…his husband.

He was also well fed, and currently receiving a lovely shoulder rub from his husband, The Iron Bull, who apparently knew a thing or two about curing tension headaches. Dorian was feeling a great deal better, actually.

“Pft. Still dunno what you’re bothering for.” Sera’s legs dangled from the cask she sat on, swinging dangerously, and likely to kick Grim in the face soon. “You want ’im to pop off, I got a little flask of the stuff you’re lookin’ for. Dunno what all this chat-n-marriage is gunna do that a little poison can’t.”

Dorian hummed. “I’m not actually trying to _kill _my father, Sera.”

She snorted. “_Why._”

Blinking, Dorian raised his head. “Ah…hm.”

“If your peerless wit is deserting you, big guy, I’d say it’s time for bed.”

He huffed in Iron Bull’s general direction, closing his eyes again and leaning back into those huge hands. “I _can’t_, none of the Tevinter attendants have shown up yet. I need people to report back to my father about this spectacularly depraved scene I’m making with my husband and the other riff-raff.”

“Too good for our tavern, probably,” Krem remarked.

Sera spat.

“Charming, Sera,” Dorian sighed. “What if I step in that.”

“Serves your sparkly ass right.”

“What for, pray?”

She frowned. “Dunno. _Sparkling_.”

“Your wisdom is, as usual, profound.” Then to Krem: “You’re probably right, but we Vints do so like our drinks. I suppose they must have brought enough of their own from home to last them all the way here and at least back to the Waking Sea.”

“Surprised you haven’t tried to pinch any yet.”

Dorian grinned. “Well, why haven’t _you?_”

Krem clicked his tongue. “This is good enough for me,” tapping his tankard.

Dorian cracked one eye open at Krem. “Is it?” Krem narrowed both eyes at him. “What if they have Sun-Blonde Vint?”

Krem audibly sucked his teeth. “I’ll bring the lockpicks if you bring the magic ward-cracking.”

“You like that stuff?” Bull asked in surprise.

“_What._”

Dorian rolled his shoulders in Bull’s hands. “You lieutenant has slightly better taste than you realized, Amatus.”

Bull’s hands went briefly still. Sera kicked Grim in the face, which drew most of the attention just as Bull leaned down and murmured, “Amatus? Thought that was for your dad’s benefit.”

Now it was Dorian’s turn to go still—but his laid-back smile didn’t crack. “I’m…just trying to get in the habit.”

Bull snorted. “Yeah, sure. Bedtime for you, you drunk.”

“Carry me,” Dorian demanded. “Bridal style. I’m determined to create enough talk that it will reach my father.”

“You’re determined to throw my back out,” Bull grumbled—but he picked Dorian up as requested and carried him upstairs. Without too much effort either, which was just a rather thrilling… _Well. He can’t sling an axe that size around without considerable…hm_.

Bull dropped him on the bed, producing an _oof_ from Dorian as he groaned and stretched his back and arms. “You need to lay off the alcohol and candied dates,” he grunted.

“If you are implying I need to lose weight, I defy you to find even a ripple of flab on my body.” Dorian arched an eyebrow pointedly, glancing at Bull’s stomach, but not saying a word. Then he rolled over, tugging on the blankets.

“Planning to sleep in your clothes?” Dorian made an inarticulate mumble. He was clearly too drunk to bother. Or so he seemed.

Or so he carefully _made _himself seem.

Dorian suspected that Iron Bull would very much enjoy undressing him. However, telling Bull to do it would be too much of an invitation. They were behind closed doors now, after all. So Dorian simply acted unconcerned and neglected himself…and waited for Bull to step in and take care of him. They’d travelled and fought together for over a year. He knew this about Bull by now.

Sure enough, with a sigh, Bull came over and rolled him onto his back and started opening his buckles, mumbling about Dorian being a spoiled rotten fop. Dorian shut his eyes and pretended to be only half-aware, but he was glowing with triumph inside. Particularly as Bull got down to his undergarments and began to reveal his skin. Dorian was exceptionally good at reclining in such a way that his form showed to its best advantage.

Bull didn’t linger over the task—but Dorian hadn’t expected him to. Bull had never once been the sort to take advantage; it didn’t even tempt him. He put Dorian’s clothes away neatly and stripped himself efficiently. It didn’t matter. The memory would be there, in his mind—nagging him with the way it felt to peel Dorian’s tight trousers off his strong, thick legs.

Dorian pretended to be drifting off. But he did peek…a little. Then he spelled himself to sleep to escape his own nagging thoughts.

\--

Waking up next to Bull thus far had not been awkward. The bed was big enough for them to maintain some space between them—at least as much as they typically had in a tent when traveling. However, on this particular morning, for whatever reason, Dorian woke with his head resting on Bull’s shoulder.

The moment he was aware enough to realize that his pillow was a warm body and his face was pressed against grey skin, Dorian went still and took in everything else. His body was turned toward Bull—not around him, but curled up against his warmth. Bull’s arm wrapped around his back, holding him there. But it was the other arm that really raised a question mark. Bull was reaching across himself to rest a huge hand on Dorian’s bare waist—presumably having pulled him closer at some point. Bull was also stirring slightly in his sleep—not quite awake yet, but near enough that Dorian would not be able to quietly extract himself from this.

Fortunately, Dorian was clever.

“Wake up,” he mumbled, poking Bull in the side.

“Hmm?”

Dorian peeled his head up and stared sleepily at Bull’s face as his eyes blinked open. “Why are you hugging me?” he asked, flatly.

Bull yawned, releasing him. “To make you hold still and stop kicking me.”

Sitting up and stretching—elegantly, skin on display in the morning light—Dorian snorted. “That’s a new one.”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t recall you ever accusing me of being a restless sleeper before. You’ve made a number of other false accusations during our many camping trips, but not that one.”

“Mm.”

Dorian turned back to Bull with a smile, propping himself on one arm. “Iron Bull, if you’re longing to have sex with me so badly that you can’t keep your hands off me in your sleep, you could really just say so.”

Bull blinked up at him. “Who’s longing?”

“You, I suspect,” Dorian smirked.

Bull stretched his arms up and lazily folded them behind his head. Dorian did not allow the action to peel his eyes away from Bull’s face. “Nah, not me. But if you need a little marital action, you know I’m here for you…Husband.”

“I need nothing of the sort.” Dorian twirled his moustache into better shape. “I do worry about you, though. This has rather interrupted your usual string of partners. If you can’t endure the dry spell, I could be generous enough to help you out.”

Bull shrugged, further testing Dorian’s determination not to stare at his arms and shoulders. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks for caring, though.”

Dorian succeeded in not ogling—by turning away and rising gracefully. “Never call me a callous husband,” he replied, sauntering in the direction of his clothes, giving Bull an eyeful of his ass covered by nothing but his smallclothes.

“Who, you?” Bull grunted as he got up. “Nah, you’re a peach.”

Dorian was bending over his chest to pick out an outfit for the day while Bull went to the nearby table and splashed water from the basin on his face—still stubbornly stark naked. And just as Dorian was about to deliver his wittiest reply, the door banged open, his father’s voice saying, “…’s room is _this_ one, isn’t it?” And then sudden silence.

Dorian and Bull turned, blinking at their unexpected early morning guest, who had gone white again. Krem was behind him, patiently covering his own eyes.

Dorian’s gaze flicked from his father to Bull and back again. “Good morning, father,” he said. Then: “Is this more or less awkward than the time when I was fifteen?”

Halward Pavus looked rather green as he spun on his heel and left.

\--

Later that day, as Bull and Dorian were having tea together in the library, Halward Pavus tried another appearance. Bull grinned at him as soon as he appeared. “Hey, Dad! Come join us! I’m trying to get Dorian to tell me about the time when he was fifteen, but he won’t. So what happened?”

The elder Pavus took a deep breath and sat down, perfectly poised. “Nothing of consequence. I simply caught him with another boy in a state of undress.” He waved off the offer of a cup of tea.

“Yeah?” Bull turned to Dorian. “So who was this boy, huh?” His voice had lowered to a deep rumble, reminiscent of a growl.

“No one to concern yourself with, Amatus. He was certainly nothing compared to _you_.” And Dorian leaned in and sweetly kissed Bull’s scratchy cheek. His father watched, looking rather stricken.

“Sweet-talker,” Bull murmured.

“Dorian.” Halward Pavus looked almost lifeless as he forced the name out. “May I have a private word?”

Dorian blinked as though quite surprised. “What, without Bull here?”

“Yes. Without your…qunari…” His parted lips hovered soundlessly for a moment. “…Husband.”

With an inner crow of triumph, Dorian turned to Bull. “But anything that concerns me concerns him too…”

“It’s all right, Kadan.” Bull kissed his forehead. “You and Dad have a chat, I’ll see you tonight.” He rose, and Halward Pavus nodded to him politely. He looked fit for another fainting spell, but he kept his poise perfectly.

“Well, father?”

With a dead-eyed, hopeless stare: “Dorian…are you never coming back to Tevinter, then?”

“Are you still asking that?” he sighed. “Surely you can see that marrying me off to Livia is simply out of the question now…”

“I gave up that hope the last time we spoke,” his father interrupted. “I am no longer waiting for you to come home the way I wished for.” Dark eyes stared at him miserably. “Yet I always held on to a hopeless wish that you would still return in _some_ capacity. Even if it were entirely on your own terms, as long as you came back…”

“And what good would _that_ be to you?” Dorian cut him off, a little sharply.

“Dorian.” His father swallowed, eyes looking alarmingly watery. “I have no heir. If my death leaves House Pavus’ seat vacant, do you know who will likely ascend to the Magisterium?” Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Varnus Vallius.”

Dorian recalled the name and scoffed. “The merchant? The Vallius family is of _laetan_ origin!”

“Exactly. But they have been rising, Dorian—_rapidly_. You know what that means.”

Dorian did know. _Blood magic_.

“And he has made some powerful friends who support him. My sources lead me to believe he’s all but sponsored by House Cletus—which means he’ll support them and all their interests once he has secured a seat in the Magisterium.”

“I see,” Dorian murmured.

His father leaned forward slightly. “This is why, no matter the terms, I continued to hold out hope that you would come back to Tevinter. Even if you do nothing else that I would want, as long as I can hand down my seat to you, as long as I can keep Cletus from gaining another crony in the Magisterium…!” Halward composed himself shakily. “This is why I ask, Dorian. Although I fear your…marriage…is already answer enough.”

The picture sobered Dorian considerably. In truth, he had long been considering…had talked to Cadash about it too…

“I certainly cannot bring a qunari into Tevinter,” he said quietly.

“No,” Halward agreed. “So I fear you intend, in marrying him, to remain in the South forever. Ignoring your homeland.”

Dorian almost denied it—but then, this marriage existed to punish his father, and if he admitted how long he’d been thinking of returning, that would defeat the whole purpose. The purpose as far as his father went, at least—which was not quite the _whole_ purpose.

Still—his father’s concerns were very real, and Dorian understood the implications. So, carefully, he answered, “As far as returning, marrying, and continuing the family line, you may forget that entirely. That will never happen.” He paused, then continued slowly, “As far as returning in my own way…to keep a foul, corrupt house from acquiring another seat…” A deep breath. “I will need to discuss that with my husband. It would impact our future greatly.”

Halward Pavus looked both ill and relieved at the same time. “That is…very true. I can ask no more than this.” He rose smoothly, though Dorian thought he noticed his father swaying slightly, as if dizzy. “Please consider it.”

“I shall,” he sighed, affecting disinterest again, and his father left.

\--

“So what did Dad want?” Iron Bull asked, putting away his freshly polished weapons that night.

Dorian sighed, beginning the unbuckling process. “For me to return to Tevinter, what else?”

“Hmm. You gonna?”

“It’s been on my mind for some time,” he admitted. “Not that I told _him_ that. Consoling him would be unpardonable.”

“Yeah? Good on you.”

Dorian glanced at Bull as he shrugged out of his upper robes. “You think I should go back too?”

A shrug. “Good Vints are hard to come by. I know you don’t like the life you got born into, but it’s a position not everyone can get, and you could do things not everyone can do. Just ignoring it would be like…” He held his arms out. “I dunno. Me being a tailor.”

He snorted. “I would _adore_ the chance to see you in spectacles.”

“Stick around a few years.” Bull winked. “My eyesight’s not what it used to be.”

“_Really_.” Dorian unbuttoned his undershirt, grinning. “I’m going to get you a monocle next Wintersend.”

“I’d use it.” Then Bull added, “So you’re really going back?”

Dorian put his shirt away, but stopped undressing there. “You don’t know how much I don’t want to,” he murmured. “Nor…how much I must.”

As if by some trick or sleight of hand, Bull produced a flask. He held it out. “Drink?”

With a bitter smile, Dorian took the flask and went to sit by the fire. He swallowed the burning…whatever-it-was, then sighed. “I was born and bred to high society, to politics and finery and such. It wasn’t easy adjusting to this rough life. I suppose a part of me will always feel at home amongst all that grandeur.” Bull ambled over and sat across from him. “Yet…when I imagine going back, it looks so empty.” He huffed a laugh, playing with the flask. “Of course, it’s not as though I’ll be completely alone. Mae will be there, and perhaps a few others I can eventually bring myself to trust. But…”

“Gonna miss us commoners?” Bull’s smile was gentle. Dorian handed him back his flask.

“There have been times in the tavern, or around the campfire on some Maker-forsaken mission in the middle of nowhere, when I felt so…deeply, perfectly _happy_. And I know I won’t feel that again, not in Tevinter. No matter how good the wine is.”

“Yeah…that’s friendship for you,” Bull sighed, taking a drink.

“It is,” Dorian agreed. “And I just…wish I could _stay here_.”

“Can’t say I blame you.”

Dorian gazed across the space between them, studying Bull in the gilding firelight. “Obviously, I’ll pay the Chantry for our annulment before I go.”

“Sure,” Bull shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”

He raised curious eyebrows. “Is that it?”

“Is that what?” Bull echoed.

Dorian sighed. “You’re so bloody passive about these things. You imply that you’d happily remain in a chaste marriage to an absent husband for the rest of your life, and I know you actually mean it. Is there no way you’ll ever make a demand on a friend, or even a request?”

“You got something in mind you want me to ask for?”

With a dismissive wave: “Oh, let’s not start that game again. It was enormously fun trying to goad each other into admitting our desires, but it becomes silly at a certain point.” He hummed in thought. “That point being, once we’ve both seen through each other this completely.”

Bull nodded. “So let me guess—part of your reason for marrying me was an excuse to create a chance for something to happen between us.”

“Which you guessed already. At what point was it?”

“The first night.” Dorian _tsk_ed, and Bull clarified, “You spelled yourself to sleep.”

“You could tell?” He was a bit impressed.

“You don’t sleep that quietly without magic,” Bull grinned. “Usually you’re a pain in the ass to share a tent with.”

“If you had all that figured out,” Dorian huffed, “you might have anticipated my wishes.”

Bull shook his head. “I don’t do that, Dorian. Even if I’m pretty sure you want me to. Some things shouldn’t be left to guessing.”

“I knew you’d be that way about it. You were so perfectly respectful from the start. Remember that night in Haven when I got drunk and threw myself at you?”

Bull blinked. “Yeah…surprised _you_ remember it, though.”

“I wasn’t as drunk as all that,” Dorian explained. “That is, I _was_ drunk, but not to oblivion. It was my plan, you see—I’d just met a man, I wanted him immediately, and he was a mistake in every way. The only natural thing for me to do would be to get drunk, make the mistake, and move on from it.” He shook his head at Bull. “But you wrecked the whole thing by refusing to take advantage of me. What was I supposed to do after that?”

“Sober up and explain it to me clearly?” Bull suggested.

“Well.” Dorian waved again. “Haven was attacked soon after, and we were all in a terrible mess for a while, and by the time the dust settled and we had another opportunity, you and I had somehow become friends, after a fashion. And I simply didn’t have a way of approaching a friend, and in fact I still don’t.” He dropped his chin on one hand and regarded Bull. “I kept hoping friendship would alter my feelings in time. Spend long enough with a platonic relationship, and surely it would become natural, and I would no longer want more.”

Bull stretched and flexed his arms, grinning.

“Oh, stop preening,” Dorian snorted.

“Can’t help it,” Bull sighed. “I got this drop-dead gorgeous Vint telling me how he couldn’t stop fantasizing about getting naked with me for over a year…”

“Please stop putting words in my mouth.”

“Am I wrong?”

Dorian bit his lip. “Well…what about you?”

“What about me?”

“I’ve told the truth. Your turn.”

“What do I need to explain? You know how I work.”

“Yes, you’re always honest. So why did you agree to marry me, if you knew almost from the beginning that it was a pretense?”

Bull shrugged. “You wouldn’t have asked for it if you didn’t need it.”

For a thoughtful moment, Dorian neither moved nor answered. Then, gracefully, he rose, crossed the space between them, dropped a knee onto the chair and leaned down and kissed Iron Bull. Full, warm, arms around his neck. Bull kissed back, huge hands on Dorian’s hips, warm mouth welcoming him.

When Dorian broke the kiss, he sighed and ran and hand through his hair. “This would have been much easier for me if you had cooperated and succumbed to the temptation of your beautiful new husband.”

“Can I just succumb now?” Bull answered, smiling.

“No, no, all pretense is lost, I’m afraid,” Dorian sighed. “Whatever we do now must be done as fast friends, with the full acknowledgement that I, at least, always wanted to—and what is more, we know I’m leaving and this cannot continue. The situation is quite dismal.”

Gently, Bull pulled him in, settling Dorian on his thighs. “Dorian, I was willing to stay married to you even if nothing happened and we never saw each other again. Who says we can’t continue?”

“Yes why _is_ that, exactly? You didn’t say. And _don’t_ say it’s because you just don’t have anyone else asking for your particularly large hand in marriage.”

“Why can’t I say that? It’s true.” Bull shrugged.

“Because I’ll consider it a challenge and we’ll be mired in matchmaking fiascos forever. Try something else.”

Bull gave him a narrow look. “You’re gonna make me talk about my _feelings_, huh?”

“Why not? I already did,” Dorian replied, with superiority and sass.

But Bull made an unconvinced sound. “Ehh, you admitted you wanted to fuck me; that’s different.”

An eyebrow arched as Dorian calculated. “Would it change matters if I stated that those nights I mentioned previously, in the tavern or around the campfire, were all spent in your company?”

“When you were happy?”

“Mm-hmm.” Dorian nodded.

Bull also nodded, considering this. “All right. You got me.” He rested his hands on the small of Dorian’s back. “Besides just going for it because it was something you asked for…I guess I kinda liked the idea. Even if you leave and we don’t fuck. Or if we do—whatever. Doesn’t matter. This past year, it’s been nice having you around. But it’s just the Inquisition. Outside this—and this can’t last forever anyway—we’re going back to pretty different worlds. There’s not much that would keep us connected, besides the past. And maybe I don’t really get marriage, but I’m working on this idea of family, and I get that you marry someone, you’re family. So even if we don’t see each other, we’d still be family.” He smiled. “I like that idea. If it’s something you want.”

Dorian’s hands wandered over the broad expanse of Bull’s shoulders. “You’re charming,” he hummed, “but I must admit I find your nonchalance on the subject of sex…distinctly annoying.”

“You know I don’t push people about that,” Bull pointed out.

“And _you_ know what I’ve already admitted of my own desires.” Dorian lowered himself to lean against Bull, bare chests pressing together. “Can’t you come up with an answer to that?” he murmured against Bull’s throat.

“Fair enough,” Bull said, and slid his hands down over Dorian’s ass, giving it a squeeze. “You wanna fuck? Because I’d _really_ like that.”

Chuckling, Dorian licked and lightly bit Bull’s neck as his hand snaked down between them. He cupped the sizeable bulge and murmured, “Likewise, my dear husband,” before Bull caught his lips and kissed him.

Bull’s loose pants were easy to sneak a hand into, and Dorian didn’t see any reason to restrain himself. He thrilled at the feeling of Bull’s cock growing hard in his hand. “Finally,” he murmured.

For his part, Bull had a slightly tougher job to get into Dorian’s pants, but he was managing it with impressive dexterity. Just feeling those fingers work his trousers open was enough to get Dorian fully hard; by the time Bull touched him, the trousers were already unbearable. “Good work,” Dorian breathed against his mouth. “That was quick.”

“Told you,” Bull rumbled, stroking him. “Got a delicate touch. Still don’t believe I can knit?”

Dorian laughed into the kiss. “I’ll believe it when you knit me a blanket with our names inside a big pink heart.”

Bull’s huge arms wrapped around him as he stood. “See, now I’m gonna do that.”

“Oh, don’t be appalling,” Dorian managed to gasp out before Bull took a couple steps and plopped him on the bed.

“Your idea, Kadan.” Bull crawled over him, peeling Dorian’s trousers away. “Maybe you’re the appalling one.”

“I don’t want to hear that from a man wearing _these_,” he yanked at Bull’s pants, “and furthermore, _still_ wearing them when he ought to be naked.”

Shrugging, Bull shed the hated pants. Dorian immediately attempted to push up against him, but Bull stopped him. “Hey, easy. Let’s take it slow.”

Bull kissed his throat, his shoulders, clavicles, chest. Licking and kissing and tangling fingers in Dorian’s hair. “Forgive me if I’m a bit impatient after all this time,” Dorian grumbled, still trying to get some friction on his cock—preferably the friction of _Bull’s_ cock.

“Even more reason,” Bull purred, tongue teasing his nipple. “Took us a year to get here. Let’s enjoy it.”

Dorian reached between them and wrapped his hand around Bull’s erection again. “I intend to,” he purred, “you tease.” Before Bull could say anything else, he pushed up and kissed him again.

It was a greedy kiss, as Dorian wouldn’t mind confessing, and it was more than simply a lustful one, too. He may have admitted a few things just now, but they really weren’t the half of it. Unfortunately, the whole truth was something he had no intention of confessing. At least not in words. At least not so soon. Only in hints, like using _Amatus_ when it hadn’t been necessary—and like this kiss, now.

Dorian fully intended to suck Bull off. It had long been on his mind, but the kiss persisted, making that difficult. He squeezed and stroked with his hand in an endless promise of what his mouth would offer, but Bull, it seemed, had just as much to communicate by kissing as Dorian did, and breaking apart became almost impossible. They kept trying—Bull would move his mouth down, as before, but one ragged gasp of pleasure from Dorian and he’d be back, sealing their lips together. Dorian would pull back, lingering soft and wet, but rubbing the head of Bull’s cock with his thumb as a none-too-subtle hint of what his lips would do there. But instead of leading him in that direction or even releasing him so he could go himself, Bull would just dive in again, deep and heated, and Dorian began to give up on the idea of getting to anything else right now.

Anyway, Bull’s heavy cock in his hand was arousing enough—and when Bull’s wandering, stroking, gigantic hands found their way downward, traced fingertips over the arch of his hip and the seam at the top of his thigh, and took hold of his cock in return… “_Ahhhhh!_” Dorian moaned heavily into Bull’s mouth. He felt a rumble, a pleased growl, and teeth loosely catching his bottom lip.

“I like that,” Bull purred, without breaking contact in any way.

Dorian licked into his mouth again and flexed his hips, thrusting a little into Bull’s hand as he began to stroke Bull vigorously. “Slow down,” Bull breathed, and he shifted closer, almost laying atop Dorian—except that it would not be possible, given their height difference, if Bull didn’t bend a bit. He pressed his cock down against Dorian’s, where Dorian had wanted it from the first, and began to roll his hips. Dorian moaned loudly again and wrapped his hands around both of them, accepting the slower pace in exchange for the headier thrill of Bull’s warm erection against his own.

“Oh,” Dorian whispered, licking Bull’s upper lip. “You’re huge. You’re going to break me.”

“Nah,” Bull murmured, grinding against him. “I got a little toy, the perfect size. I’m gonna slick it up and stick it in you after you come, and we’re gonna sleep this one off, and in a few hours I’m gonna wake you up and suck you off and stick another toy in you, a bigger one, and then we sleep _that_ off. And in the morning I’m gonna take it out and slide my cock in you, and it’s gonna be so smooth and easy, and I’m gonna fuck you until you scream so loud you ruin breakfast for everybody downstairs.” Dorian felt Bull’s grin against his lips. “How’s that sound?”

“Gag me,” he whimpered. “I dislike bothering my innocent neighbors. And breakfast is an important meal.” Then he looped an arm around Bull’s neck and pulled him close, ravishing his mouth as he snapped his hips up _hard_. Bull grunted. “Also,” Dorian panted, “I want to suck you off as well. Apart from those revisions, please proceed with your plan as you’ve described it.”

Bull laughed, even as he began to thrust in earnest. “Good to know we’re on the same page, Kadan.”

Things sped up then, finally. Dorian couldn’t move much, from his position, but he still had a hand on Bull’s cock and he knew where to touch. He was not surprised by the reaction when he rubbed the head of Bull’s cock; he was a little surprised by the reaction when he rolled and caressed Bull’s testicles—it was a bit more than he’d expected. Dorian made note of that—he would explore the full extent of Bull’s sensitivity later, with his mouth.

For now, he was on the edge. Both of them had become sloppy and uncoordinated in their kisses; that surely meant Bull was close, too. Dorian groaned. “Want to feel you come…” He caught Bull’s lip, biting enough to be felt. “Want you to make a mess all over me…”

“Fuck,” Bull grunted. “You close?”

“Come for me and find out,” Dorian growled, wrapping a leg around Bull’s hips, practically climbing him until he was almost off the bed, supported and carried by massive hands and his own desperate strength.

Rather than answer, Bull pulled him even closer, making a strangled groan as he pressed their bodies together and rutted against Dorian hard and fast for a few blindingly glorious moments. Then he growled loud and deep enough that it resonated through _both_ their bodies, and Dorian felt his cock pulse and the hot spill of his ejaculate on his belly and groin.

That was all he needed. Dorian let go and spent himself in heavy, rapid spurts, moaning long and loud into Bull’s mouth and adding to the sticky mess between them.

After some moments of gasping for breath, Dorian managed, “Where’s this toy of yours, then?”

Bull kissed him. “Easy, Kadan. Gotta clean you up first.”

“Why am I not surprised.” But Dorian smiled and allowed it, and if the word _amatus_ echoed in his mind, he didn’t say it.

But Bull was pretty good at reading eyes.

\--

Dorian didn’t leave the room until late the next day, and even then he moved slowly and carefully, still feeling that morning’s encounter. Bull, as usual, was attentive and caring. 

Dorian was having dinner in the tavern, waited upon hand and foot by his husband, when his father showed up. It rather surprised him that his father would darken the door of such a place, but then Dorian recalled that his father was probably leaving in the morning. “Ah, have you eaten, father?” he greeted him. “Pardon me for not rising,” he squeezed Bull’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “We were a bit too enthusiastic last night.”

“And this morning,” Bull added, smiling. Then he looked up at Halward Pavus. “Want me to get you a plate, Dad?”

“No, thank you,” Halward tried to answer without showing pain, but didn’t entirely succeed. “I simply came to ask if the two of you had discussed…” His teeth clenched. “Had _found time_ to discuss what we spoke of, Dorian?”

Somewhat less cheerfully, but still calm, Dorian indicated a chair. “Sit, father.” Then, as Halward reluctantly did, Dorian leaned against Bull, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I intend to arrange a visit to Tevinter in the coming months. I may see you once or twice while there, but I think the majority of my time will be spent with House Tilani.” Whatever reaction Halward Pavus had to that name, he managed not to show it. Dorian continued, “I do not say that I’ll remain forever, from then on. I plan to return to the South, possibly travel back and forth for a time. But I anticipate Maevaris and I will arrange things in such a way that my residence will, in time, move back to Tevinter on a more or less permanent basis.”

Halward swallowed. “And…the Magisterium?”

“Naturally,” Dorian sighed, “we all hope your seat will not become vacant for quite some time. But when it does, let’s not assume that it will certainly go to a lapdog of Cletus’.” He gave Bull a warm look. “You should thank my husband, father. He’s excessively supportive and self-sacrificing.” Then he looked back at his father expectantly.

With a deep breath, Halward Pavus managed, “I am…most grateful for your support of my son.”

Bull smiled. “Eh, we gotta stick together and help each other out. We’re family, after all. Right, Dad?”

Dorian’s expectant look intensified slightly as he raised his eyebrows, smiled, and stared at his father.

Halward Pavus’ shoulders almost slumped. “Of course…” He swallowed again. “…Son.”

He left soon after, and when he was gone Dorian sighed, grinning. “Well, _that_ was worth it. Shame about the heart attack, but hearing my father call you his son more than makes up for it.”

“I wish I could tell my old Tama about this,” Bull grinned. “My dad is a magister!”

Dorian laughed. “Well, now that my father has been duly tortured, I suppose we don’t strictly _need_ the marriage anymore. You’re a fine lover with or without it. After he’s gone tomorrow, I can pay for our annulment—if you would like your freedom.”

If Bull was curious why Dorian was bringing this up again after their discussion the night before, he didn’t let on. “Eh, I dunno. Don’t see any reason for you to waste your money. Unless you want to. If you just can’t stand being Mr. The Iron Bull, I understand, I won’t pin you down…”

“Oh, appalling as that name is, I hardly object to it. I am rather appalling myself, you know. And I hear Cabot gives you a discount here—surely that would extend to your husband?”

“Hmm…it might.”

“Of course, I won’t take advantage if it inconveniences you. Really, the sum for an annulment is nothing of consequence. If you want it, I’ll certainly free you.”

“I’m good,” Bull shrugged. “Unless you think it would be a pain in the ass. Hate to be a burden. I’m older than you, and all.”

“Honestly, Iron Bull, as if I minded that. Really, if you want an annulment, just ask.”

“Dunno why you keep bringing it up, Kadan. You trying to hint at something here? Better ask me plainly if you want to—”

At just this point, Dorian broke into a laugh. Still laughing, he kissed Bull, uncaring of the tavern around them.

\--

And at the end of a letter from Tevinter, a year later:

_I’ll be heading South as soon as the roads can be reliably assumed to be clear of snow. Missing you until then,_

_Your Dorian Pavus_

_Postscript: In case you’ve changed your mind and really, truly want me to, I could always pay for an annulment while I’m in the South this time._

__\--

And in concluding via sending crystal some many years after that:

“You sure? I know the Divine; she said I can get our annulment without you present if you asked me to.”

“Oh, but if you’re so set on it, Amatus…”

\--

The Happily Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> I think this will close the Dorian Pavus Cannot Be Troped series. I can't really think of any other tropes that would fit in Thedas, except maybe A/B/O, and for my own sake I'm going to just Not Go There, not even to subvert it. *shudders*


End file.
